Fading Shadow
by Moral Conundrum
Summary: Three-Shot. Three years before the Uchiha Massacre, Konoha falls to an invading force. Amidst the ruins of his city, the Sandaime Hokage Sarutobi Hiruzen finds reason to live on.
1. Konoha Aflame

**Naruto**

**Fading Shadow**

~o~

A Hokage had to be willing to die for his people.

Sarutobi Hiruzen sighed, his world-weary eyes trained on the dusty road ahead. Those had been the last words of his own sensei, Senju Tobirama, before he'd sacrificed himself to save Sarutobi and his teammates. There was no greater duty, he'd warned Hiruzen, than that of the Hokage's responsibility to protect his shinobi. The Hokage's life was nothing, he'd said, when it came to safeguarding the lives of the citizens of the Hidden Leaf. A Hokage's people came before his life, before his home, and before his pride. It was a way of life that Hiruzen had never doubted, and had sworn to follow to his dying breath.

Until now.

He grimaced, the memory alone of what he'd done bringing on a burst of unbearable guilt. The fires would rage on unavenged while he fled the scene of destruction like some mongrel coward. Never before in all of the long history of the Village Hidden in the Leaves had the people of that city seen a betrayal so heinous and great as his own. It was beyond unthinkable. Pain and misery clouded his eyes as he cast himself back.

According to the reports he'd received from the ANBU, it had been dawn when Konoha was attacked. He couldn't have reported it himself, as he'd been away on business. With a new Mizukage in control of the Land of Water, duty and honour had obligated him to open up a new dialogue with the struggling nation. The Mizukage had been receptive, if distant. Not that any of that mattered anymore. Hiruzen had received a missive from his advisors at noon, advising him of the imminent invasion, and he'd been halfway back to Konoha by dusk.

He brought a wrinkled hand up to his eyes, rubbing at them tiredly. There was no doubt in his mind that the ease with which his enemies had taken the Leaf was anything but his own, damned fault. Duty had taken him away, it was true, but pride had kept him there. Even when it was clear that the Master of Kirigakure wanted nothing to do with his reconciliation, he had persevered with the talks, certain that peace was the only way.

His pride had cost him his people.

No words could describe the fear and outrage that had overcome him when, with midnight just passed, he had finally arrived on the outskirts of the Hidden Leaf. All the Village was aflame. The district which was home to the Compounds of both Hyūga and Uchiha was a roaring inferno, and the greater part of the merchant's quarter had already collapsed in the wake of the blaze. Thick columns of smoke arose from the ruins, forming a choking sheet that hung low across the rooftops. Three of the four noble countenances carved into the Village's monument were damaged beyond repair, for only the heavily weathered visage of the Shodai retained any semblance of wholeness. Directly beneath it, the Tower of the Hokage had been razed to the ground.

But that wasn't the worst of it. As he'd rushed along the shattered streets, the real tragedy had been all too clear. The battle was hours finished, the last of the Konoha shinobi having long since fled the field. The bodies of the fallen, both civilian and shinobi alike, lined the streets, and there wasn't a single one among them that Hiruzen didn't recognise. Every turn revealed a face too familiar too bear; a guilt too painful to ignore. Every fallen comrade was a rush of raw pain within him. The suffering of the citizens of Konoha was worse again, the still forms of each and all reminding him of his failure.

But it was the children that hurt him the most. Their eyes seemed to question him. To ask him why he hadn't been there to protect them.

He'd had no answer.

Hiruzen frowned, pulled from the morbid past by the gentle jingling of copper. He glanced down, and bit back on the sudden rush of grief at the mere sight of the pendant that hung from his neck. The symbol of the Sarutobi Clan gleamed dully in the faint glow of the moon, a bitter crack snaking across its centre.

He had returned to the Sarutobi Compound with a knowing dread in his heart. Nothing had been left but a charred timber frame, the roof having long since fallen through. His family had not been spared. The pain that he'd kept at bay over the long hours of his return journey had become unbearable. A kind of madness had seized him, and he'd clambered into the ruins of his home with a zealous fervour that belied his aged body. For hours he slaved away amidst the ash, searching for any sign of life. Hoping against hope that _someone_ had survived. But it had been in vain.

The only thing he'd found was the small bronze amulet, sitting on the grime-streaked floor what had once been his son's bedroom.

The eternity spent foraging in the dust had done nothing to erase the insanity that gripped him. If anything, it had only exacerbated his fury. With the last vestiges of his hope vanquished, his rage and hatred had consumed him. He'd descended on the enemy encampment at the base of the Monument in a storm of righteous power. The rank-and-file had been crushed beneath his assault, and not a single man who came before him had been spared his wrath as he'd fought blindly on. It was a battle that, even now, he had almost no memory to speak of.

His shoulder twinged as a forgotten injury made itself known, begging his attention. He bit back on it, focusing on the same invisible point further down the road that he had been for the past hour. Looking back, that blindness terrified him. Never in all his years had he lusted for the heat of death and war as he had that night. Ironically, it was only his discovery of his quarry – those hated demons that had led the forces – that had saved him, and destroyed him.

Even in lunacy's obstinate hold, his blood and chakra roaring angrily, the enemy General and his Lieutenants had overcome him. Hiruzen's assault on the mountain camp was first checked, and then countered. He was driven mercilessly back by his enemy's superior numbers and power. Every blow he landed was met and returned with another twice as hard. In spite of his obvious disadvantage, he'd fought on with mindless abandon. His jutsu had been cruel and strong, but still they had suppressed him.

His attacks had not been driven by the pride and honour of the Hokage alone. It had been the faces that had flashed before him – a smile, a grimace, a frown, a scowl – all of them agonisingly familiar. All of them gone. His duty had asked that he avenge them. The raging madness that had gripped him sought blood. He had been beyond redemption. Had the Shinigami come to claim him, he would have welcomed it with open arms. In the haze of his mind, he'd have been glad to die protecting his people's honour.

At least, that was how he'd _thought_ it would end.

He frowned.

Their battle had taken them across the entire city, to the very edge of the martial quarter. A heavy blow from one of his adversaries had sent him crashing through the shuddering frame of the Academy. Lying on the floor of the third class hall, he'd been momentarily knocked to his senses by a rush of ill-timed nostalgia. The place brought on a torrent of memories; a welcome respite from the heartless battle he'd been fighting. The countless hours he'd spent there bringing hope and knowledge to the future had brought pleasure to him even in his darkest hour.

But then another thought struck him, and how he had sagged beneath it. The hollow emptiness of the hall was a painful reminder that no children would ever work there again. No Genin hopefuls would walk the floors, their young minds ready and eager for the industry of Ninjustu. The faces of his own students had flashed to mind and he'd been thankful that they, at least, were safely far away.

He'd still been able to sense his enemies, waiting for him to return to the battleground outside. In spite of the reprieve granted him, he'd had no intention of stopping. The madness had relinquished its hold on him, but his sense of duty had remained. The honour of his people – the honour of the Hidden Leaf – insisted on the vengeance that only he could deliver on its enemies. Even if there was no hope of his victory, he had to at least attempt it. The Will of the Hokage demanded it.

And all it had taken to break the Will of the Hokage was a young voice, echoing loudly as the first shard of dawn pierced the shadow.

"… Old man Hokage?"

Hiruzen stopped, his feet aching from the countless days they'd been travelling the old road. He peered over his shoulder. His companions were watching him curiously.

He'd found them there, cowering beneath the crumbling frame of the Kohoha Academy. The nervous question, asked even as Hiruzen had allowed himself to accept Death, had shot through him like a blade in the night, and he'd looked around to discover three children, no more than five or six, huddled in the shade of what had once been the teacher's lectern.

He'd recognised the first, the speaker, instantly. Wide blue eyes stared out of a grime-streaked face; the whisker-like birthmarks twitching as he'd stared down at the still form of the Sandaime Hokage. Naruto's cocky abrasiveness was nowhere to be seen. Behind him, a pair of bright green eyes was watching him with an equal level of uncertainty. The tufts of bright pink hair were muddied by the dust, but it had been a long moment before Hiruzen was able to force a name to Haruno Sakura's face. Slouched directly in front of them, his jet black eyes regarding the old man with hard mistrust, was one of the Uchiha children. It had taken him only an instant to recognise Fugaku's youngest son, Sasuke.

They had stared at him.

He had stared at them.

The silence had stretched on.

Sarutobi Hiruzen had been beyond torn. The three children were the first living he'd seen since he'd returned to the Village. The thought alone that someone had survived the apocalypse had sent a spark through his heart; a heart that, in his mind, had already stopped beating. A thousand crazy hopes and plans had raced across the forefront of his mind. The adamant despair of moments before was crushed by the abrupt realisation that the legacy of Konoha could live on in the hearts of these three children.

And then he'd been halted. Five shinobi of astounding calibre lay between the three kids and the freedom he'd suddenly craved for them. If he fell, those outside wouldn't have hesitated to butcher the kids. Given how the tide of battle had swung up to that point, he'd known beyond doubt that there hadn't been even a remote chance of his defeating them single-handedly. The only chance Naruto and the others had to escape was if he fled with them himself.

His resolve had nearly buckled at that. To save them, he had to betray the souls of all those who had fallen. He had to leave them unavenged. It had been a choice between the honour of the thousands who had passed, and the lives of the three fearful children huddled in the dark.

He sighed, casting aside the dark memories as he nodded encouragingly at the trio trailing along behind him. They were bunched up – their shoulders mere inches away from the next – and as he looked down at them, he was gripped by the same certainty that he'd felt the very instant he'd first seen them hidden in the shadow.

There had never been any choice in the matter.

Three exhausted, dirty, miserable heads nodded in response, before trudging up to join him further along the road. They were tired and they were hungry. The holes in their hearts bore the pain of families lost and a fallen nation, and his own ached for them. But they wouldn't be alone. He would be there for them, as they took their first steps into the future. With time, the first of those miserable holes would start to close, and they would be able to return to some semblance of happiness. But for now, at least, they were alive.

He wrapped his arms around them, giving them a gentle shove forward. His prompt was accepted with scant nods and the soft padding of feet in the dirt. Even as they stepped ahead of him, their small profiles outlined against the dawn-time sun, he could see their linked hands. Their knuckles were white from the strength of their grip. The ghost of a world-worn smile twitched at the Professor's lips. He could see their fear, and yet still they walked forward. And for now, at least, he would walk with them.

He cast thoughtfully back to his master's words. It was true that a Hokage had to be willing to die for his people.

But sometimes a Hokage had to be willing to live for his people too.

~o~


	2. Morning

**Naruto**

**Fading Shadow**

~o~

Hiruzen had always risen with the sun. It was a practice his sensei had taught him when the Niidaime had first taken him on. Hiruzen hadn't regretted it. Early risers, he knew, tended to get the very best out of the day. It allowed one to exploit all of the advantages of being one of the few who were up and about before the crowds, which naturally included getting the jump on everyone else when it came to sharing the amenities. He'd spent years trying to drill the importance of an early morning into the three who would eventually become the Legendary Sannin, but only Orochimaru had ever heeded his advice. Both Jiraiya and Tsunade had been lazy as sin.

He sighed as he heard the trio of snores emanating from the next room. Some things never changed.

He made his way out to the tea room, peering drowsily out the long window. The sun had just barely breached the horizon, casting an amber glow across the waking world. The trees of the heavy forest which surrounded their new home swayed to a gentle breeze, and their branches were as flecked with dew and frost as the cold ground beneath them. With his better-than-average hearing, he could just make out the distant rush of water in the stream down the hill, and he smiled at the chirruping of the few other early-birds who were up and about. His skin broke out in gooseflesh as the breeze blew through to chill him. It was going to be a cold autumn.

Turning away from the vista, he took a seat at the low table in the room's centre. The sound of sleepy voices reached his ears. He shook his head as he began preparation for his tea, knowing from experience that it was now only a matter of time before the peace of morning came to a rather painful end.

It was a routine he'd gotten used to rather quickly, all things considered. It had been seven years since they'd escaped the ruins of Konoha, and considering the injuries he'd been given that night, he was more than a little amazed that he was still alive. True, he had Tsunade to thank for the operation she'd run on him to extend the last few years of his life, but even so, it was impressive. At the rate he was going, he estimated that he may have as many as another ten years up his sleeve.

He smiled fondly as his thoughts went to his former students. As if ignoring the fact that the Hidden Leaf Village had been burned to the ground, Jiraiya had never believed that his master had fallen. And in spite of the numerous precautions Sarutobi had taken when he'd hidden himself and the kids away, it had taken the Toad Sage all of three months to find him. He could work some real wonders when it came to that spy network of his. Once he'd found out where his former sensei was hiding, the self-proclaimed Super Pervert had practically dragged his hopeless teammate from the innumerable gambling dens she called home, and hauled her out to see their very probably injured teacher.

He'd been right, of course. Sarutobi's own medical expertise was limited, and the wounds he'd procured in his battle with the enemy of Konoha were well beyond his power to repair. If not for Tsunade's intervention, he might not have lasted to the end of that year. He didn't dare think what might have happened to his young charges if he'd faded so early. _Fortunately_, he thought, as he raised his tea with a contented expression, _that __was __something __he__'__d __never __have __to __think __about_.

He stopped mid-sip. No noise of any kind was coming from the room next door. He carefully lowered his tea to the low tabletop, and then pulled a pipe from the folds of his coat. He lit it with a soft sigh, leaning back on his haunches.

It appeared that it was time to begin.

A soft _creak_ in the ceiling above him was the only warning he needed. There was a pause, and then, with a monumental _crash_, the roof was crushed inwards as Sakura smashed through to land in a crouch on the low table. He had scarcely a moment to register the fierce glint of determination in her bright green eyes before she sent a heavy punch directly at his face. He leaned back, easily avoiding the strike as he noted the inadequacies in her stance. The girl scowled, and dived forward in a rolling tackle. Hiruzen rolled backwards with a spryness that contradicted his age, dodging the flash of pink with a marked casualness. Undeterred, Sakura planted her hands on the floorboards, using the forward motion of her tackle to raise her legs above her body and bring them crashing down towards the wizened form of the Professor.

"Slow," he murmured absently, taking a calm puff from his pipe as he ducked out the path of her heels. Sakura, trapped in freefall, felt a jolt of alarm as she realised just how vulnerable she was. As if to prove her fears, she felt the Professor's foot in the small of her back, and before she could take advantage of the sudden leverage, he'd snap-kicked her across the room and out the window. She shot him a dirty look as she fell out of sight.

"Your head is mine, Old Man!"

The boards beneath his feet buckled and broke as Naruto launched himself from beneath the floor. Sarutobi didn't so much as blink as the boy launched a rising kick at his teacher. He shifted his body out of the way of the attack. Shifting his weight, Naruto swung his foot across, attempting to deliver a heavy strike to the onetime Hokage's side. Hiruzen caught the blow. The boy's chief mode of attack was still absurdly reckless. With a disarming ease, he raised the helpless figure and slammed it against the wall. The Kage Bunshin dissolved instantly. A frustrated growl was heard as the real Naruto leapt at him from beneath the table, his diminutive body curled in a loose Taijutsu stance.

His first attack missed, as did the second. On the third, Hiruzen once more caught a-hold of his wildly flailing form. With a weighty heave, he hurled the blond punk towards the open window, just as Sakura was climbing her way back in. Unable to dodge, the pair of them disappeared from his view in a tangle of limbs and curses.

"Haste makes waste," he called. There was no reply. Taking another long draw on his pipe, he gave the last of his tea a wistful glance, before slowly making his way outside.

The brief chill of morning that he'd felt in the house was twice as pronounced outside. The narrow strip of grass that lay between their home and the forest was still coated in a thick frost, and he felt his irritation spike as the moisture soaked through his thin sandals. His piercing gaze strafed the area beneath the window. Neither Naruto nor Sakura were anywhere to be seen.

The unspoken question was answered as he felt a pair of twin presences rising through the earth beneath him. He took to the air, leaving a Kage Bunshin to take the brunt of the blow from below. Eyes of both green and blue stared up at him, but were quickly distracted by his Clone. As he reached the apex of his jump, he felt a sudden burst of chakra from the direction of the house. Peering around curiously, he noticed with some interest that his third and final student was crouched on the roof of the house. Sasuke was staring at him intently, his fingers forming seals at what he no doubt thought to be a fairly impressive speed. The Uchiha grinned triumphantly as he blasted the Great Fireball in the direction of his teacher.

Sarutobi raised an eyebrow. The raw power behind the attack seemed strong, but as it drew nearer, he could sense the uneven flow of chakra beneath it. Reaching out with a gnarled hand, he waited until it was within reach, and then twisted out of the way, grasping the core of the chakra-driven flame and extinguishing it with a slight yank of the wrist. He felt rather than saw the boy's Taijutsu follow-up, and spun in the air, delivering a heavy kick to his belly. Sasuke dropped like a stone, landing near to where Naruto and Sakura were still grappling with Hiruzen's Kage Bunshin.

His two partners hesitated in their own fight long enough to deliver a somewhat pointed laugh at Sasuke's expense. He glared at them, only to snort himself when they were both sent sprawling by a blow from the Shadow Clone. His smirk was wiped away as the Kage Bunshin turned on him, knocking him arse-over-head with a well-placed kick. Sarutobi just shook his head at his students' antics. It seemed he'd be giving yet another lecture on distractions in the field. Sasuke's flying form was arrested by one of Naruto's Shadow clones, who gave him a boost to where the other two were already regrouping.

Reunited, they each gifted Sarutobi with a determined glare before forming a loose huddle, their heads bowed as they discussed strategy.

Now standing a mere thirty feet from them, Hiruzen looked on with no small amusement. When first he'd brought them to this ungodly remote strip of land, they'd barely been able to look at him for a period longer than five minutes. All three of them had suffered horrible losses the day that Konoha had fallen – be it family, homes, or dreams – and that kind of sadness wasn't the sort of thing you just shook off after a couple of days in the hills.

Consumed by his own misery and guilt, Sarutobi had been sensitive to their plight. He'd given them the time and space they'd obviously needed, and had made no move to interfere with their grieving. But as time had worn on, their misery had slowly begun to fade. It hadn't been a quick process, nor had it been easy. But, painful though it was to think about, they'd been indeed fortunate that they'd had to face those trials so young. Had they been adults, he doubted they'd ever have recovered to the extent that they actually did. It was only the natural kind of fortitude that lies within the child's heart that had allowed them to emerge from that unholy gloom relatively whole.

Not that they were unchanged by their experience; far from it. He didn't know what had happened to them in the hours before he'd found them, but a kind of camaraderie had been forged in their eternal wait until dawn, there beneath the ruins of Konoha. By the time he'd brought them to his hidden abode – and in spite of their obvious desolation – they'd already begun to stick together like glue. He had spent the better part of one of their earlier days in the training lodge trying to convince Sakura that it was in her own interests to have a room separate from the boys'. She'd stubbornly refused, and the boys themselves had been just as adamant that she should stay with them.

At first, he'd been baffled. Of the countless children he'd taken into his care over the years, there had been very few six year old girls that would willingly turn down the offer of a private room, particularly when the alternative was bunking with a pair of boys. Nevertheless, he'd relented, and given the almost overwhelming sense of unity that had formed between the three of them, he'd hardly had reason to regret it. Once they'd gotten over the greater part of their despair, their preference for the others' company had only increased. Even Sasuke and Naruto – whom Sarutobi, having known their temperaments prior to the Konoha disaster, had doubted would ever get along – had grown used to each other's friendship with a speed that had amazed the Professor. The former's seriousness fit the latter's boisterousness in the same way that Sakura's fiery humour matched their extremes. Of course, their friendship hadn't been without its bumps, but that was to be expected. Even as the years had passed, Sarutobi was forever amazed at the utter compatibility of the three personalities.

In hindsight, he had a feeling that their undeniable attachment to each other had been just as much of a factor in keeping them sane in those early days as it was their own inner strength.

When he'd first offered to teach them the Ninja Arts, about seven months after their arrival, they'd all jumped at the opportunity. He'd been apprehensive about it himself, especially after the miserable disaster that had become Orochimaru. But he'd had to give them something to repay them for their ordeal; an ordeal that _he__'__d_ put them through. And, sadly enough, his expertise in the Way of the Shadow was the only thing he'd had. Well, the only thing of any use, anyway; he somehow doubted that a kid as brash as Naruto would ever appreciate or have any sort of use for the intricacies of diplomatic nicety.

They'd taken to his teachings rather quickly. Sakura's development had revealed an obvious edge over the boys in the finer points of chakra control and Taijutsu, while both Sasuke and Naruto had shown an obvious preference for the flashier brand of Ninjutsu. It was a pattern that had eerily mirrored his previous three students' skills. Hell, even their vastly differing personalities reminded him of the trio that had gone on to become the most infamous shinobi team east of Suna.

But in spite of their similar skill sets, the younger group's teamwork blew the Sannin's out of the water. Getting Orochimaru and Jiraiya to cooperate for anything longer than an hour had been like putting an Iwa-nin and a Konoha-nin in the same room and expecting one of them to come out alive; it just didn't work out. Naruto, Sasuke and Sakura were different. Their chemistry off the battlefield translated to a perfect union whenever they landed on it. They trusted each other without question, and it shone through in their scratchy attempts at strategy.

And it had been Sarutobi's pleasure to teach them. With his home, family and people gone, he'd had nothing left. Jiraiya and Tsunade were off living their own lives, and he'd long since given up hoping that Orochimaru would ever see the error of his ways. That left these three children as his only link to the former glory of his home. Which was why he'd sworn that, if it took him until his dying breath, he would assist the legacy of Konoha, and the Will of Fire, in burning on into a new age.

If only for a little while.

"Kage Bunshin no justu!"

Sarutobi blinked, rapidly registering that a couple of hundred copies of the Uzumaki boy now stood where before there had been one. He must be getting old, he chided himself, to be losing his focus in the middle of a battle, training or no. The Shadow Clones each performed a Henge, and suddenly, scores of each of his three students were milling about the clearing. Clearing his head, he took on a new stance as he scanned the crowd. A thousand eyes of green, blue and black stared back at him. But even now, he could tell apart the three who had saved him from the hundreds of others. There was a hint of determination there; a fiery spirit that couldn't be copied by any mere Bunshin.

He smiled, taking a puff from his pipe as he readied his stance.

It was going to be a good day.

~o~


	3. Evening

**Naruto**

**Fading Shadow**

~o~

It was autumn.

The sun was setting on the shrouded vale, the hulking trees of the ancient wood casting long shadows in the crimson glow of dusk. The forest floor was a carpet of black mud and crushed brown leaves, and the trickle of a distant stream was just barely audible in the dull quiet of the encroaching twilight. The lone island in the endless sea of leafy browns and reds – a bald patch on the upper reaches of the wooded vale – was uncharacteristically silent. From the tiny house in the northern corner of the clearing, no sound emerged.

The room with the eastern outlook, that pleasure room most often attended to by the Master of the House, lay cold and empty. The low table at the room's centre was bare, and a thin layer of dust attested to a measurable absence on the part of its owner. The door which led through to the dormitory behind it was ajar, revealing it to be devoid of its usual occupants. Bedrolls were undone, and a scattering of odds and ends adorned the floor. Both rooms were unlit, leaving only the grey haze of the eve to illuminate the lonely scene. The only hint of life was a faint glow, shining through a crack in the timbres of a lone door in the corner.

The scene in the room beyond was a grave one.

The old man was on his deathbed, that much was clear. It was in the rattling of his breath and the rasping coughs that plagued him, and in the rheumy cloud that filled his eyes. His stringy frame, long belying a hidden strength that few could claim to match, had finally betrayed him. Muscle and sinew had wasted away, leaving a few mere scraps of flesh to cling to his weary bones. His body was giving way. Only fair, he thought wryly, considering the number of times he'd pushed it well beyond its limits. He suppressed a grin at the dark humour in it; no need to give them a reason to think he was going mad this close to the end.

Three pairs of eyes regarded him warily, all with that selfsame mixture of fear, dejection, and utter certainty. They knew what was coming every bit as well as he did.

A vicious bout of coughing took him, and he wretched violently. His withered body shuddered as bile began to fill his lungs and throat. The three watchers tensed. As the fit continued without any indication of wanting to subside, a pair of gentle, callused hands compressed themselves gently against his chest. He sighed as the healing flow of chakra spread throughout him, lifting the hopeless weight of the mucus from his doomed innards. He gave Sakura a nod of thanks. She retreated to her perch at his bedside with a tired smile.

He examined their faces, one by one. Each was pale and drawn from their countless nights' vigil, the heavy black bags of the sleepless hanging beneath their eyes. But hidden below those haggard exteriors were the faces he knew.

Sakura, green eyes glinting in the dim lamplight, even now had a hint of her usual brazen demeanour shining through her anxiety. Twelve years spent in the company of the two incorrigible boys who even now sat hunched at her either side had crushed any illusion of timidity, revealing a young woman possessed of a strength of will and determination that Hiruzen had witnessed in precious few kunoichi. Where the other two surpassed her in terms of raw power, she more than made up for in her razor sharp intellect. Even amongst the elite of Konoha that he had known and fought with throughout his reign as Hokage, none could have held a candle to Sakura's devotion to her training and teammates. She was as imperturbable as a flower on a mountaintop, and as bright as sunshine in the morning. He loved her as if she was his own daughter, and it was enough to know that she held him in the same regard.

The old man's gaze shifted, and eyes of black met eyes of black. Sasuke's normally impassive mask was nowhere to be seen, his fear for his mentor's health scrawled plain-as-day across his pale countenance. The boy had had potential when Sarutobi had first lifted him from the ruins of Konoha, and Hiruzen held some well-earned pride in knowing that every drop of talent the Uchiha possessed had gone toward transforming him into one of the most formidable shinobi that the former Hokage had ever met. His strength in battle was match only by the sheer ferocity of the esteem in which the young man held his adopted family. Not that he was prone to showing it. His deepest thoughts and feelings were ever guarded, hidden beneath a veil of cool humour and imperturbability. Where Sakura was the living sun, Sasuke was the shadowed moon; the wolf waiting in the rushes. He was the son that Hiruzen had thought lost, and the past twelve years would have been a great deal less interesting if not for him.

His belly heaved as he suppressed yet another fit of coughing. A glass of water was pressed firmly into his hands. He took a careful sip, meeting Naruto's stare slowly. In spite of everything that had happened to them over the years since the Hidden Leaf's downfall, Hiruzen still considered the Uzumaki to be his greatest triumph. Though the price for his freedom from the apathetic neglect of a hostile populace had been a steep one, the boy had at last been granted the upbringing he'd always deserved. He hadn't squandered it either. While he possessed none of Sakura's glowing ingenuity or Sasuke's raw ability, his wearyingly constant vibrancy was almost inarguably his greatest strength. How many times had Sarutobi knocked him down, only for the boy to climb back up? How many times had he been told it wasn't possible, or that it couldn't be accomplished, and he'd gone ahead and done it anyway? Even when he fought his technically superior teammates, he was able to match them blow for blow. Before the decline in Sarutobi's health had called an end to their training, the boy had even been going to ridiculous lengths in an attempt to establish some sort of strange rapport with the ancient demon that dwelt within him. There was no question in Sarutobi's mind about how truly special the lad was. Uzumaki Naruto shone with the light of a million stars, and it was he who filled the void between moon and sun with an energy that could never be dimmed.

It was Sasuke that broke the old man from his reverie, his usually level voice raw and scratchy from disuse.

"When's Tsunade due back?"

Hiruzen felt, rather than saw, the tired shrug of Sakura's shoulders, "I don't know. Two, maybe three days."

She didn't bother to say what they were all thinking. The onetime Hokage was already breathing his last. He'd said his goodbyes to his elder student when she'd first set out in search of medicine a month back. As it turned out, whether she'd found a cure or not mattered little now, for it would be a miracle indeed if her sensei were alive to greet her when she returned.

He forced himself to suppress a wry laugh as he considered the curious manner in which his three wards looked upon his three former students. His stories of his travels with the Sannin in years gone by always seemed to arouse an odd mixture of jealousy and begrudging admiration in the trio, and it even appeared that they'd taken it upon themselves to uphold some sort of rivalry with the older team. It shone through quite clearly in the brittle manner in which they addressed their infrequent visitors. The elder pair, unsurprisingly, never took any offence. On the contrary; they looked upon the young ninjas' envy with a kind of delighted amusement. The Toad Sage in particular liked to rib Naruto and Sasuke with enormously exaggerated tales of the _Good Old Days_.

Ironic, considering that both Jiraiya and Tsunade couldn't look upon the unbreakable unity which bound Uzumaki, Uchiha and Haruno together with anything other than a jealousy of their own.

He felt a stab of pain when he thought of them. Tsunade, and Jiraiya, and yes, even Orochimaru. It hurt to think that he wouldn't see them again, now that he had finally reached the end. He should have liked to have passed on a final lesson or two, if they had been at all inclined to learning. It was only once you stopped teaching, he reflected, that you realised that it was the lessons left ungiven, which were the most important of all. The face of his onetime favoured student flashed to mind, and he sighed wearily as he wondered what else might have been.

Evidently, sighing was not the best course of action. He felt a heaving in his belly, and quickly brought a white cloth up to cover his mouth. He wretched again, and felt a surge of disgust at the flecks of crimson amongst the bile. Sakura had seen it too. Leaning forward to steady the old man, she glanced at Sasuke.

"Fresh towels. Now."

Weeks of unending exhaustion lent her a snappish quality. Sasuke, to his credit, rushed to obey without so much as flinching. As the only one among the three of them with medical skills of any real benefit, Sakura's orders in matters of mending mind and body were considered inviolable by either boy. Sarutobi blinked tiredly. No amount of medical knowledge could save _him_. Not now, anyway.

Sasuke was back in the space it took Hiruzen to draw breath. Sakura snatched the towels from him, replacing them with the soiled ones beneath her master's head. She was careful not to disturb the old man's already weak frame. Naruto looked on helplessly. Sarutobi gave both Sakura and Sasuke a grateful nod before doing his best to make himself comfortable.

Three morose gazes followed his every move.

At last, he felt a hint of near-forgotten ire rising at the sheer hopelessness scrawled across the features of his three young protégés. He knew as well as they did that he'd be lucky to last another night. He'd felt it coming a long time, and was more than prepared for his long-postponed encounter with Death. His apprentices, on the other hand, appeared to be anything but. He blinked once, twice, three times, attempting to clear the ever-present fog creeping in at the corners of his vision. His gaze passed from one glum countenance to the next, finally coming to rest on a pair of cheerless blue eyes.

"Naruto."

The boy stiffened at the address, all signs of eternal good humour having vanished as quickly as Sarutobi's health.

"Get my stick."

The Uzumaki blinked in surprise, and after casting a fleeting glance at Sakura, rose and left the room. Hiruzen watched him go, staunchly ignoring the worried look that passed between the two that remained. He knew that what he was doing was foolish. But someone had to do it.

Naruto returned a moment later, the cane clutched tightly in his hands. After yet another cautious glance at Sakura – which was truly beginning to irritate Sarutobi, considering he didn't even attempt to mask his intentions – he offered it to the ailing Professor. Sarutobi accepted it with a little more brusqueness than was entirely necessary.

"Sakura. My robe, if you please."

The young medic, who had so far shown a great deal of restraint, could clearly no longer contain herself, "You really should be resting-"

"There'll be none of that," Sarutobi interrupted, injecting as much authority into the rasping death-rattle that was his voice as he could manage, "I'm not dead yet. If I fancy a turn around the wood, I think I'd be well within my rights to do as I please." His stern expression softened as her face fell. He reached for her hands; they were shaking where they had balled into fists at his side, "But thankyou."

She looked up, bright green eyes searching his, before giving him a very hesitant nod. Climbing to her feet, she reached into the dresser and rummaged around a moment, and pulled out a coat emblazoned with the long disused symbol of the Hidden Leaf.

Gathering every ounce of energy left in the weakened husk of his body, Hiruzen swung his feet out over the edge of the bed. It was a trying effort, and he was beyond vexed to find that his emaciated legs refused to raise him of their own accord. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sakura give Naruto an impatient nod. A moment later, two Kage Bunshin appeared to his either side, carefully helping him to his feet. A cool chill spread across his body at the sudden exposure to the evening air, and was immediately countered by Sakura's wrapping the Konoha shawl around his shoulders. He cautiously tested his weight against the counterweight of his cane. After a long moment, he waved the Kage Bunshin back. They retreated, albeit reluctantly.

He clucked internally at his greatly diminished strength. These past few weeks had really sucked it out of him. He wondered if he looked as weak as he felt. He knew that it was only Sakura's immense respect for him which was preventing her from keeping him in bed; if she wished otherwise, he would be in no position to resist her.

Ignoring the groaning protest his wasted muscles sent his way, he took a shuffling step forward. Though his gaze was fixed firmly on the floor, he could still feel the three anxious stares watching his every move. The bone and sinew shuddered –

And held.

He felt a flicker of triumph, but forced himself to focus on the next step. That one single movement had already sucked the breath out of him, and he still had a long way to go. His muscles groaned as he forced them into action, but they obeyed. His breath came in tired pants. Had he truly only come a distance of several paces? It felt as though it were a thousand times that.

Sasuke held the door open as he approached. His free hand hovered near Hiruzen's shoulder, ready to catch him should he fall. Even the all-seeing Sharingan couldn't predict the unintentional slip, but the boy's instincts would be more than enough to save him, should they be needed. Hiruzen pursed his lips determinedly, desperately trying to regain control over his hopelessly wheezing breath. He'd stood on his own two feet for the past eighty odd years, and he'd be damned if he was going to let that change just because he was dying.

The journey to the door at the end of the little house was one of the longest he'd ever undertaken. Or so it seemed, anyway. Every step was agony, and every breath was poison. Only his surroundings provided any sort of relief. Every inch of the simple setting was adorned with the fractured pieces of the past. Here was a rusted and blunted survival kit, the first he'd given the young trio when first he'd begun to train them. There hung a series of muddled attempts at Sealing Techniques, the legacy of one of Jiraiya's sporadic visits. Hanging at the very end of the hall were the pictures.

One of a since-vanished city, its sprawling mess of towers and compounds veiled by the impenetrable forest from which it garnered its name. Konohagakure no Sato was long gone, and yet this was one place in which its memory lived on.

The next was of an old man and his family, who were themselves long lost to the bloody hopelessness that had been the sacking of the Hidden Leaf Village. Sarutobi had given up on hoping that some might have survived the fire, for down that road lay the path to madness.

And, inevitably, a battered portrait of the selfsame old man and his new family, backgrounded by the tiny cottage they still called home. The glint of humour in the eye of that old fellow was matched by the cheeky grins on the bruised and beaten visages of the three young students that clung to his side. It seemed that some things never changed, if the way they were clinging to him now was anything to go by. Permitting himself a small smile, he gave Naruto a grateful nod before stepping out into the cool autumn night.

It was colder outside than he'd expected. The last rays of sunlight were still peeking over the rim of the vale, but the evening chill was untimely at this time of year. Trees swayed in a breath of ancient wind, and leaves of red and gold danced in the day's fading glory. Even they felt the chill. This far north of the ruins of the Leaf, winter tended to come early.

He permitted himself another small smile as he stepped out onto the unkempt stretch of lawn which lay before the house. After weeks spent imprisoned in that dreadful bunk, the feel of the soil and the grass between his toes was utter bliss. The fumbling fingers of the wind crept through the meagre protection afforded by his coat, and he relished its cool embrace. An unconscious shiver ran through his body, but he managed to suppress the coughing fit that threatened to overwhelm him once more. His smile didn't waiver for a moment.

A lone chair was set in the centre of the clearing. Naruto's handiwork, no doubt. Ignoring it for the moment, he took another deep breath of fresh, cool air. This time, there was no chill.

"Bloody cold out here."

He laughed; a dry, choking sound. As they had so many times before, the children flopped to the ground on either side of him. The change of scenery was doing them some good. A fraction of the apprehension had drained out of them, replaced instead by the familiar vibrancy that had characterised them over the many years that he had been their teacher. It was a welcome sight after the nervous tension that had caged them over the past few weeks.

All at once, the spindly sticks that were his legs threatened to give way. With a weary sigh, he lowered himself into the chair, propping his cane against his knee as he settled himself. The other three, as if seeking to safeguard him from the dangers of the cold, crowded nearer to him. Naruto rested his back to the old man's knees, and Sakura and Sasuke sat to either side. Hiruzen felt a surge of contentment. If there were a better place to be in one's final moments, he could scarcely imagine what it might be.

A bout of late birdsong erupted, breaking the peace of the twilight sky. There was a long moment, and then Naruto's head turned fractionally, a grin stretched across his canine countenance as he winked at Sakura, "He sings almost as well as you can, birdie."

Sarutobi hid a smile as the girl blinked, and the Uchiha laughed. It was a relatively well-known fact around the cottage that Sakura's singing voice was not altogether unlike a saw being ground against concrete. A fact the other two took care to remind her of at least once or twice a day.

"I don't know," came the measured, expected reply, "I reckon you'd sing a fairly pretty tune if I put a blade to your bits."

Sasuke snorted at the look of mock outrage on the Uzumaki's face, clapping a hand on his shoulder, "Careful, man. From what I hear, city girls aren't exactly keen on castration."

"You would know," Naruto said, his grin returning full force.

Sasuke just shrugged.

Sarutobi looked down on them with a smile, barely registering the slowing of his breath within his chest. He had done all he could for them. Winter was coming, but it would not last long. In a few short months, spring would be upon them, and it would be time for them to bloom.

And bloom they would, of that he had no doubt. It was in their smiles, their wits, and the sheer determination that allowed them to overcome any obstacle set in their way. It was in the way they accepted without question that they were the last legacy of the old Konoha, and that it was they who would carry the Will of Fire into the future. These children were the spirit of the Leaf, and it was his pleasure to have played only a small part in helping them reach that distant future.

_Yes_, he thought as he closed his eyes, unnoticed by the three at his side, _This is enough_.

The sun vanished at last, and the few remaining faded shadows were swallowed up by the night.

Undeterred, the leaves of red and gold danced on.

~o~


End file.
